# LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. I 






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t UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, f 



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POEMS 



CHARLES ALANSON MUNGER. 



f%>S 



NEW YORK: 
G. r. rUTNAM'S SONS. 

1874. 







75 2,4-tl 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the j-oar 1S74. by 

MISS E. J. MUNGER, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



In accordance with the wishes of his many 
friends and admirers, a few of the published 
and unpublished Poems of the late 

CHARLES ALANSON HUNGER 
are here collected by his Sisters. 

OWEGO, April 8, 1874. 




rr^ ^ PAGE 

The Pioneers, 

Childhood's Dream— Manhood's Faith, . . 24 

To A Friend, 

Christmas, 

In Memoriam — Helen Z. M, 



38 

Seven Years in Heaven, 41 

Poesy, .^ 

47 

Requiem, -2 

The Guest of God 6j 

Psalm of Thanksgiving, 5c 

Lincoln, 58 

Father ! my God, I See, 72 

Hymn of Praise, ^y 

Helen's Gone, 80 

Epitaph of Ninus, 84 

To 87 



VI CONTENT S. 

PAGE 

A Fragment, gi 

The Old and the New, 92 

Old John's a-Weary, 107 

The Old Country Wife, no 

Jennie, 115 

Love, 117 

The Baby, 118 

Bluebird, 120 

Sunset, 126 

At Rest, 128 

The Three Poets, 130 

Zisca's Drum, . 133 

After the War, 139 

To , 143 



THE PIONEERS. 



Delivered at the Pioneer Festival, in 

BiNGHAMTON, FEBRUARY 22d, 1856. 

We are gathered here together in the 

Hght of happy years, 
To relume* our lives with memories of 

the hardy pioneers : 
We, the children they have nurtured ; 

we, the children they have blessed, 
In the valley, by the river, where their 

holy ashes rest ; 
In the valley their afflictions and their 

blood have sanctified ; 
By the river, golden-storied with their 

worth and virtues tried.. 



lO THE PIONEERS. 

We are gathered on the natal morning 

of our country's sire — 
Morning of earth's exultation — morning 

whose immortal fire 
Rising, whelmed the baffled vulture, feeding 

with insatiate ire 
On the heart of bleeding nations, with 

confusion swift and dire ; 
On the morn when childless Freedom, in 

the wide world all undone. 
Rose in gore, and hailed the NEW- 
BORN — her Avenger— Washington ! 
Here are gathered, to commingle cheerful 

smiles and friendly tears, 
While we pay our grateful tribute to the 

hardy pioneers! 
As the autumn sun, descending in the 

gorgeous western gloom, 



THE PIONEERS. II 

Broadens, and new-flaming splendors on 
the purple mountains loom, 

While the shadows fall the deeper on 
the verdure and the bloom — 

So, as o'er Death's silent summit we 
have seen their light depart, 

Brighter gleamed their clustering honors, 
glories new did 'round them start 

And their love, their memory, reverence 
— all, sank deeper in the heart. 

'Tis fitting we should cherish their re- 
membrance ever just. 

Their heroic toil, and stoic, their high 
hopes and holy trust ! 

They, the sons of pilgrim fathers, who 
had dared the wintry wave. 

Triumphed o'er the foe and famine, 
with stern souls and spirits brave : 



12 THE PIONEERS. 

They, who wrought so well the story 

of the green old days of yore, 
When a people rose in glory, and hurl'd 

thraldom from their shore ; 
They, who won these sounding forests 

and these floods and fields, so free. 
That their sons might worship Heaven 

in a home of liberty ! 
Pious fathers, pious mothers, who saw 

God in every gloom, 
Caught the flashing of his chariot through 

the darkness of the tomb. 
Heard the still small voice of promise 

o'er the crash of falling doom. 
Sundered all the fond affections which to 

kith and kindred bind ; 
All that love had linked with heaven in 

their native plains resigned — 



THE PIONEERS. 13 

Happy homes, and haunts famihar, and 

the temples of the Lord, 
And sought the wilds and fastnesses of 

barbarous tribes abhorred. 
Silence then was on the mountain ; dark- 
ness then was in the dale ; 
And the savage beast howled hoarsely 

on the savage warrior's trail, 
While the wailing, woful war-whoop 

shrieked along with every gale ! 
But firm faith was in their bosoms ; 

their Deliverance was o'erhead ; 
And they fearlessly confronted and o'er- 

came each rising dread, 
Till into our homes of loveliness their 

weary footsteps led. 
Here they came, clothed on with freedom, 

in the shadowy dawn of years ! 



14 THE PIONEERS. 

Here they came, clothed on with justice 

— the hardy pioneers ! 
Here they came, and here they strug- 
gled, tilling an ungrateful soil ; 
Here they wept, and here they worshipped, 

through long days of dark turmoil ; 
Here they lived, clothed on with freedom, 

through the horrors of wild wars ; 
Here they died, clothed on with radiance, 

steadfast as th' eternal stars ! 
What though midnight closed around them 

— what tho' conflicts' wrath assailed ? 
Never fainted they, nor faltered — never 

their bold bosoms quailed. 
God was with them, God was o'er them ! 

He should still the strife direct, . 
Should gird them with the harness of 

destruction, and protect ; — 



THE P I(J N E E R S. 1 5 

For they heard, through war's hoarse thun- 
ders, Triumph's trumpet blaring fast ; 

Knew that, in dun clouds of glory, free- 
dom's flag should flap the blast ; 

And that, through the smoke of battle, 
Victory's star should stream at last. 

So upon the cloud-capped mountain, on 
the black cliff's solitude, 

'Mid the darkness lightning-rifted-, and 
the terrors tempest-wooed, 

In the crash and boom, the eagle watches 
o'er her callow brood. 

Gathers them beneath her plumage while 
the snows around are driven. 

Feeds them with her sky-won quarry 
while the rocks around are riven, 

Till with thunder-baffling pinions, they 
soar upward into heaven I 



l6 THE PIONEERS. 

Fair WYOMING ! now the " wild flower " 

scents no more thy '' ruined wall ; " 
No more thy plains lie wasted under 

Desolation's pall ; 
No more doth crimson havoc on thy 

hapless people fall ; 
But the city smiles in beauty where the 

deed of hell was done ; 
And the river rolls in splendor that with 

fathers' blood hath run ; 
And the vale reposes tranquilly — the 

fairest 'neath the sun. 
They are resting from their labors — thy 

defenders true and bold — 
And their scattered bones, re-gathered, 

mingle underneath the mould, 
As their hearts in life united met the 

foe in days of old, 



THE PIONEERS. 17 

Till in freedom's stern encounter they 

waxed bloodless, faint and cold. 
Peaceful ! honored ! be their slumber, while 

the tide of being rolls — 
Their glory to the nations — and their 

memory in our souls ! 
Wysox, too', hath drained the cup of 

Tory wrath, and savage hate- 
Hath bowed her head in agony beneath 

a ruthless fate — 
Hath given into Indian thrall her feeble 

ones and fair, 
Robbed of every consolation, save one 

only, in despair. 
'Twas the promise of redemption, in 3 

land and home afar. 
Where "captive leads captivity," beyond 

the farthest star ! 



l8 TPiE PIONEERS. 

Through the night of desolation, mar- 
tyred, every hour they trod, 

Weary, worn, and broken-hearted, they 
bore on the word of God 

Over mountains, over deserts — a poor, 
stricken female band, 

Prayerful, trusting, faithful Christians — 
till they felt of God's right hand. 

Heaven bless them ! for our sunshine 
'twas that they traversed the gloom : 

In the holy cause of liberty they dared 
defy their doom — 

Sacred be their names forever! glories 
shine around their tomb ! 

Let his name decay unhonored, on his 
memory gather mould, 

Who shall sully the bright story of our 
mother, strong of old ! 



THE no NEE RS. I9 

Who shall dare to stain the 'scutcheon 

of the sanctified and brave, 
Or pluck fair freedom's chaplet from the 

patriot in his grave ! 
Many a vale of quiet beauty, many a 

haunt of dreamful ease. 
Linked with names of dulcet music, -sweet 

as olden melodies ; — 
Many a stream in gladness bounding 

through the forest wide and dim ; 
Many a wild wood grand resounding with 

the storm's deep organ hymn ; 
Many a mountain looming awful up 

athwart the starry dome ; 
Have they left to us, their children, our 

inheritance and home. 
Wyalusing !— where th' Evangel pitched 

the snow-white tents of peace, 



20 T H E P I O N E E R S. 

Bidding fierce, war-nurtured Indians from 
their wrath and blood to cease ! 

Fair She-SHE-QUIN ! throned serenely, 
like a queen, among her hills, 

Gathering loveliness in sunrise from her 
tributary rills ! 

Bright TOWANDA ! like an eaglet perched 
upon the azure height. 

Pluming his unscathed pinions for a bolder, 
broader flight ! 

Ta-HI-HO-GAH ! where the waters, meet- 
ing, clasp each other's hands. 

And go singing on together, carrying joy 
to many lands ! 

Old Ah-WA-GA's widening valley ! where 
the Susquehanna laves 

The consecrated burial-grounds of hon- 
ored chiefs and braves ! 



THE PIONEERS. 21 

OtseningO ! name melodious, where the 

sister-rivers meet 
In a vale of quiet rapture with com- 
munion low and sweet ; 
Where we novv, in emulation of those 

waves commingling near, 
Are together joined to memorize the 

hardy pioneer ! 
Blessed ever be our fathers ; hallowed 

be the ground they trod — 
They for us in war have travailed ; they 

for us endured the rod ; 
And serenely now repose them on the 

bosom of their God ! 
Let their memory ever flourish, blooming 

in our heart of heart — 
Let their virtues ever guide us as we 

strive with earnest art — 



22 T II E r I O N E E R S. 

And their piety sustain us, when from 

earth our souls depart ! 
Yet are we not all forsaken by those 

old majestic forms ; 
Their brave remnant towers grandly 

through the wrath of wintry storms, 
And their brows are bound with honors 

plucked from duties nobly done : 
And old age illumes their story like a 

calmly setting sun. 
Let us cherish them, and reverence, while 

their lamps of life shall burn, 
And renew our failing virtues at their 

overflowing urn ; 
For a few more days shall gladden them, 

a few more moons shall wane 
When, gathering thus together, we shall 

look for them in vain ! 



THE PIONEERS. 23 

Honor, then, our noble fathers for this 

land, which love endears ; 
Blessings on our pious mothers for faith's 

triumph o'er our fears ; 
Honors, blessings, rest forever on the 

hardy- pioneers ! 
So may we go on rejoicing, " with a 

firm, unfaltering trust," 
In the paths of truth and duty, that when 

earth reclaims her dust, 
We may leave, like them, to flourish — 

the remembrance of the just ! 



CHILDHOOD'S DREAM — MANHOOD'S 
FAITH. 



Ah ! blessed morning, whither art thou 
fled— 
With thy divinest, dulcet dream, 
Drawn from pure childhood's 
fountains ? 
Come back to me ! come from thy sun- 
set red, 
Round o'er the orient ocean-stream 
And hosts of ice-helmed mountains! 
For in that happy hour, I deemed — 
A simple child 
With fancy undefiled — ■ 



childhood's dream — 25 

All the wide world with truth and beauty 

teemed ; 
And should rejoicing, hand in hand with me, 
Walk down the fruitful vale of mystery, 
Unto the future's fair, serenest sea ; 

And be forever beautiful, 

With me forever dutiful; 

And be forever truthful. 

With me forever youthful, 
A never-failing source of joy 
Unto an ever fond and faithful boy. 
Then, too, I dreamed the tongue 

A harp-string rich of gold. 
Whereon the soul breathed, Eden old ; 
And round me songs of innocency flung. 
Yea, to such simple faith I clung. 
And stood to heaven so near. 
That on the spirit's tiptoe, I could hear 



26 childhood's dream — 

The angels, with seraphic sentinel, 
Cheer one another's watch with — ''All is 

well ! " 
Then wailed the wasting years, 
A chilling dissonance of doubts and fears ! 
And I beheld the rainbow fly 
With its spent splendors, from the 

frowning sky ; 
The West, with all its fleecy flock 
Of purple, silvery sea and ruddy rock, 
In one tumultuous toil of sundown shock, 
And fond affection's doom 

Sealed with a treacherous kiss: 
Beneath the roses' bloom 

I heard the serpent hiss. 
And from the false- toned tongue. 

Cacophony, such as fell 
From relict-angels' harps unstrung, 

In their red realm of hell. 



MANHOOD S FAITH. 27 

All these I heard and saw, 

Threading life's thorny shaw ; 

But harbored still, with constant mind, 

The faith that all was fair and true ; 
Assured 'twas mine 'ere long to find 

My world robed in a real hue, 
With purer beauty glorified, 
And nearer still to heaven allied, 
With something of a grandeur and a power, 
I knew not, felt not in my sensuous hour. 

And now that this my life 

Furrows the foam of strife, 
And yet still must stem the stress and 
storms 

Of passion's ever-eager gale — 
I feel that music and those forms 

Which were my joy on hill and dale, 
Are but the types and echoes, sensible 



28 childhood's dream — 

Of that divine Incomprehensible 
Whereof I glimpses caught, but see not 

clearly 
Through these dim veils of sense and flesh, 

.Dawning upon me fair and fresh, 
Rising upon me hourly, still more dearly. 

Daily my sight unsealing. 

And glories new revealing, 
Shining more brightly year by year, 
And growing ever still more near and 

dear ; 
And though the rainbow's hue 
Dissolve in blankest blue, 
And sundowns marshal their array 
To glitter, gild, and grope in gloom away ; 
And though the rose 
The serpent 'neath her bloom disclose ; 
And though the kiss 



MANHOODS FAITH. 29 

Drug with deceit love's golden bowl of 

bliss ; 
And though the tongue of man 
Through all the round of hellish rhythm 

hath ran ; 
Yet hold I not a faith the less, 
That all this world w^as made to bless, 
And that beneath each cold and outward 

form, 
The truth lies deep and warm, 
Immaculate of earth, 
Immutable in a heavenly birth ; 
And that the sensible sound and sign 
Which childhood deemed divine, 

Are voice and lamp to guide us to 

that deep, 
Where in a sacred mine 
Beauty and Truth their jealous jewels keep ; 



30 CHILDHOODS DREAM — 

And ever as my homeward path is trod, 
The Ocean, Earth, and Air 
Around me grow more fair, 
All radiant with the signet of our God; 
And as Creation's plan 

Is to my clearer sense unsealed. 
And to a purer intellect revealed, 
Youth's joys become the rapture of the 

man ; 
My childhood's dream, the faith by which 

I climb, 
Through silvering mists, the crags of toil- 
some time : 
Yea, brighter, surer ever grows my way, 
And I draw nearer heaven eveiy day. 
Nov. 3, 1872. 



TO A FRIEND. 



Trust me, my meditative friend, 
We are not men but as we do, 
But as we rise, gird, and battle 
through 

The world, unto some worthy end. 

These twilight moods ambition cramp; 

These rapt and theoretic flights, 
Through dreamful days and studious nights, 
A higher, nobler ardor damp. 

Though Study is the regal car 

Wherein we journey up to fame. 
Yet Action is the steed of flame 

That whirls us on from star to star ! 



32 TOAFRIEND. 

Though lore and fervid brain combine 
To purple with rich juice our life, 
'Tis action in the world of strife, 

Which doth express the generous wine. 

Thou should'st not thus thy spirit tame, 
If thou would'st men should taste 

and bless 
The wine of thy immortalness^ 

Till they be drunken with thy name. 

Nay, rather, while thy waiting morn 
Looks wistful on the eastern hill, 
Step forth, thy circle to fulfil, 

And life with lofty deeds adorn ! 

Thy circle — broad and high above, 

I see its perfect arc expand. 
Traced out by Truth's unerring hand, 
And beautified by Hope and Love. 



TO A FRIEND. 33 

Then up, thy morning bids thee forth ! 
The night, by thy cahn sunshine kist, 
Shall blossom into day, the mist 
Of wrong and error lift from earth. 

Arise, and from a zenith pure 

Diffuse o'er earth the serene light,- 
Of heaven-appointed Truth and Right 

And Love, which time nor death obscure ! 

So act, that from thy zenith won, 
When thou shalt seek the deep'ning west. 
Thou mayest go down with honors blest. 
Which broaden like the setting^ sun. 



CHRISTMAS. 



The winter-night is bending, husht and 
holy, 

O'er old Judea's plains, 
As, in the stable, yearns a Virgin lowly, 

With sweet, maternal pains. 

Not far away, the Inn gleams warm and 
cheery, 
'Gainst her is shut the door; 
Beside her, Joseph wan and weary : 
Humble are they and poor. 



CHRISTMAS. 35 

And now is come the hour of long desire ; 

The doom of sin to swell ; 
On that pure bosom lies th' avenging 
Fire, 

The Babe Emmanuel. 

In swaddling-clothes they wrap him, in a 
manger 
They smooth his lowly bed, 
And lull to sleep the helpless, heavenly 
Stranger 
'Mongst cattle 'neath the shed. 

Over the roof, a pausing star is blazing 
With strange celestial light, 

Flooding the earth with radiance amazing, 
A Stm at dead midnight. 



36 CHRISTMAS. 

O'er all the land, upon that midnight oklcn, 
Are voices heard on high, 

As open swing the gates of heaven golden 
Upon the trembling sky. 



And through the shining portals, angels 
gleaming, 
Come sweeping on white wing. 
And the dear natal hour of Christ 
redeeming 
With joyous anthems ring. 

And shepherds list with fear, the gladsome 
story. 
And Wise Men come from far, 
The Earth, in robes of welcome and of 
glory. 
Sings like "a morning star. 



CHRISTMAS. 



37 



Me, pomp and power shall whelm with 
awe and wonder- 
He, with love's aspect dread, 
Bursting the gates of Death and Hell 
asunder, 
Shall bruise the serpent's head. 

Nor Him, from His Elect, shall Time 
dissever ; 

Nor Him shall change attend ; 
But He shall rule forever and forever 

A kingdom without end. 



IN MEMORIAM HELEN Z. M., 



ObIIT MDCCCLXVI. .^T. XXI. 



As when the herald-star of day, 

Becomes the Evening's gentle queen, 
Sets in the purple skies serene, 

Ere clouding night obscures her ray ; 

So she, coheriting the light 

Of springing morn, of Evening's star 
The loveliness, hath trailed afar 

Her beauty from this vale of night. 



INMEMORIAM. 39 

She is not dead ! The Good die never ! 
No ! steadfast mid the shock of doom, 
The shafts of death, the grave's dread 
gloom. 
They stand serenely and forever! 

But as the Sabbath waned, adown 

The battlements of endless day 
Splendored the white-robed choir's array 
Upon her, from God's golden Town. 

She saw ; and on her ears arose 
The song of the Apocalypse, 
Which so vvith rapture did eclipse 

All sense of worldly weal and woe, 

That she was fain to sing that song. 
Which none in fleshly robes may sing ; 



40 HELEN Z. M. 

And borne on Faith's unbaffled wing, 
God gave her to that Angel-throng. 

Her mem'ry fragrance still imparts ; 
And her calm light of love and duty, 
With all the balm of sacred beauty, 

Streams o'er the ruins of our hearts. 

Then let us quaff this wine of tears, 
(For o'er His friend the Guileless 

wept,) 
Not for her sake, who loved and kept 
That path which Christ's dear promise 
cheers ; 

Not for her sake whom Faith endears 
In the many-mansioned home of souls — 
But that with rude division rolls 

Between us Earth's dark flood of years. 



SEVEN YEARS IN HEAVEN. 



Seven springs u:ider the flowers, sister, 
Seven springs under the flowers, 
Under the beauty of seven sweet springs ! 
How hast thou passed all these long 
absent hours ? 
Wand'ring at will where the amaranth 
flings 
Blessings and balm on the saints' 
purple bowers ? 
Hovering in rapture on angelic wing 

O'er meads of asphodel kissed by fair 
showers ? 



42 SEVEN YEARS IN HEAVEN. 

Plucking the bloom, blight or frost never 

stings, 
Listening to birds singing sweeter 

than ours? 
Seven springs under the flowers, sister. 
Seven springs under the flowers. 

Seven summers under the green, sister, 
Seven summers under the green, 
Under the splendor of seven rare Junes! 
What hast thou heard, darling, what 

hast thou seen ? 
What of your songs yonder ? Sing you 

the old tunes 
Sung by the .sons of God ere the 

Earth's sheen ? 
Sound they as sweet as our songs of 

delight 



SEVEN YEARS IN HEAVEN. 43 

Sung in the summer nights, starry, 
serene ? 
llow look the fields in celestial bloom 
dight ? 
How look the saintly ones ? — like 
thee, I ween — 
Seven summers under the green, 

sister, 
Seven summers under the green. 

Seven autumns under the gold, sister. 
Seven autumns under the gold, 
Under the glory of seven glad Falls ! 
How have the heavenly harvest- 
moons rolled ? 
Faith's blood-red fruits on the jaspidean 
walls 



44 SEVEN YEARS IN HEAVEN. 

Priceless and prodigal, dost thou 
behold ? 
What have the reapers of God's harvest 
reaped ? 
Garners of souls, ripe with raptures 
untold 
Are the Lord's wine-presses in purple 

'* steeped ? 

Are his lambs gathered in joy to his fold ? 
Seven autumns under the gold, sister, 
Seven autumns under the gold. 

Seven winters under the snow, sister, 
Seven winters under the snow ! 
Under Earth's surplice, blanched seven 
times white. 
Bright with the Cherubim's might 
dost thou glow ? 



SEVEN YEARS IN HEAVEN. 45 

Oft does the Seraphim stoop through our 
night, 
Keeping fond sentry "o'er us here 
below ? 
Then, in thy sainthness, on whitest plume 
Dost thou stoop with them, though 
we may not know ? 
Lingering — thy loved ones to lead and 
illume 
Up to the Throne whence life's 
crystal floods flow ? 
Seven winters under the snow, 

sister, 
Seven winters under the snow. 

Seven years in Paradise, sister. 
Seven years in Paradise! 



46 SEVEN YEARS IN HEAVEN. 

Over the flowers^ fields of green, gold 
and snows, 
Art thou still gazing on us in love's 
guise, 
Hopefully waiting till we find repose. 
In the deep, infinite heart of th' 
All-wise ? 
When clasping thee, freed from Earth's 
dust and woes, 
God shall wipe fondly all tears from 
our eyes— [rose, 

Tell us at morn from thy bed 'neath the 
Answer in whispers at night from 
the skies ! 
Seven years in Paradise, sister, 
Seven years in Paradise. 
Atril 8, 1873 



POESY. 



What time adown the purple west 

Phoebus doth urge his flaming car, 

And o'er the dusky mountain's crest 
Comes forth the soHtary star, 

And hght and -darkness, hand in hand. 

Shed peace and glory on the land ; 

Beneath the shadow of the wall 

The city's strength 'gainst foreign foe 

Are gathered, as the night dews fall 
On temple, tower, and cot below ; 



48 POESY. 

The warriors of the Grecian host, 
Their country's pride, and hist'ry's boast. 



They rest them there, on bench and stone, 
And tell old stories of the fray ; 

Of heroes, Earth was proud to own. 

Of chieftains, passed renowned away 

In arrowy storm, and conflict's rage. 

The splendor of their fleeting age. 

Then guided by a little hand, 

There came a blind man with a lute, 
And sat him down near by the band, 

Alone, and in rapt silence mute ; 
While gathered 'round those warriors 

rude — 
To wait his music-waking mood. 



POESY. 49 

Then gently on the strings he played 
A murmuring music soft and low : 

" How dear is melody!" they said, 

" And how its accents come and go ; 

Calming the transports of the soul, 

And mastering it with sweet control." 



He ceased — and o'er them hung a spell, 
A spell tliey would not, could not 
break ; 

For that low strain, they knew full well, 
Prelusive should in splendor wake ; 

And then the Poet, first revealed, 

A mighty battle-anthem pealed. 

He sang Achilles, like the storm 
Fierce and o'erwhelming as he warred ; 



50 POESY. 

He sang of Helen, fond and warm, 
But false, inconstant to her lord ; 

Of Paris and the stolen spouse. 

The love and strife of Menelaus. 

He sang Scamander's crimson flood, 

The battle where the gods engaged. 

Where Death did sit, and deep in blood 
The fearful fight unequal raged, 

Till mighty Hector, 'neath the wall 

Of Ilium proud, did, vanquished, fall. 

He sang ! — The night trailed through 
the arch ; 

New life was in those warriors born. 
They listened, till with failing march 

The fading stars led on the morn ; 
Still did he sing, still did they stay 
Till flooded Earth another day. 



POESY. 5T 

Then— there— had Poesy its birth ! 

Then — there — men owned its primal 
sway ; 
And now it circles all the earth 

Like stars, with pure celestial ray ; 
And crowned o'er all, the bard sublime, 
Superior sits above all time. 



REQUIEM. 



** Reqtdem aternani dona iis, Do/nine ! ** 

Give them eternal rest, 
Father, with Thee, 

On thy paternal breast, 
God of the Free! 

Dumb is the cannon's throat, 
Broken the brand, 

Feebly the pennons float, 
O'er the red land ; 

Where on the battle-field, 

By the pale moon revealed, 
Slumber the Brave, 

Pillowed on foes overthrown, 



REQUIEM. 53 

While 'round them shriek and groan, 
Blent with the night-wind's moan, 
Ceaselessly . rave. 

Them shall the thunder's roar 
Nevermore, nevermore 
Rouse up amain ! 
Theirs is that olden sleep, 
Sacred and golden sleep ; 
Sleep of the dutiful, 
Dreamless and beautiful. 
Free from all pain ! 
So sleep Earth's royal sons, 
God's loved and loyal ones, 
Their duty done — 
Sinking in tranquil rest, 
As in the purple West 
Sinketh the sun ! 



54 REQUIEM. 

Fast closed the fight 'round them, 
Vast rose the fight 'round them, 

Night at noonday — 
Night of the sulph'rous gloom, 
Glad with the lightning's bloom, 
Hoarse with the thunder's boom, 
Grim with dismay and doom, 

Dreadfullest fray ! 
While round them evermore 
Wild waves of human gore, 
Washing the battle-shore, 

Burst in red spray ! 
Oh, they fought fearfully. 
Bleeding, but cheerfully,,^ 
Prayerfully, tearfully. 

On for the Free ! 
Dealing their dying blows, 
As o'er their flying foes 



REQUIEM. 55 

Shouts loud replying rose : 

Joy ! Victory ! 
Close up each ghastly wound 

Gaping so wide ; 
Lift them up from the ground. 

Liberty's pride ; 
Wrap 'round each gory form, 

Torn though it be, 
The joy of the battle-storm — 

Flag of the Free ! 
Bear them on gently, now, 
Blessed and saintly now, 

To the proud North, 
Where sleep their sires low. 
Where Freedom's ires glow, 
Where Triumph's fires show 

Gloriously forth : 
Where stricken household bands 



56 R E Q U I E M. 

Weep by the ocean sands, 
Weep on the prairie lands, 
Lake-shores and river-strands, 

Weep in their woe, 
For the bold loved ones who. 
When war's wild trumpet blew, 
Pressing in armor true 
Where Treason's dread bolts flew, 

Lie cold and low ! 

Bear them on glorious. 
O'er death victorious — 

They do not die, 
Who for their Country's laws, 
God and old Freedom's cause. 

Close the wan eye ! 
Theirs is eternal youth — 
Life in eternal truth — 



REQUIEM. 57 

Time, in his flight, 
O'er their bright record's bloom 
Never can shed a gloom. 

Mildew, or blight ! 
Yes, bear them on glorious 
O'er death victorious 

Each to his home. 
There let them find a rest 
On the sweet summer's breast. 
Near vales they loved the best, 
By their blood kept and blest. 

No more to roam ; 
No more to rouse in might 
To the fierce fray's delight. 
No more to close in fight. 
For the Truth, for the Right, 
Ne'er to dash back in flight 

War's wave and foam ! 



58 REQUIEM. 

With love most reverent, 
O'er each last, low, green tent 
Be all our tributes sprent 

Tender and true. 
Flowers of all gentle hue 
Spring hath of rare and new, 
Wind-rocked, or washed with dew, 
Freaking the vernal view 

Red, White, and Blue! 
There be fond off'rings laid, 
There our heart's thanks be paid. 
Hymns sung and prayers be said. 

Year after year; 
For this broad land of ours. 
Glad with its sun and showers. 
Bright with its birds and flowers, 
Fair with its hills and bowers. 
Strong with its wealth and powers. 

Their deaths endear ! 



REQUIEM. 59 

Calm is their slumber now, 

Fame on each pallid brow- 
Sits like a star, 

Gleaming through doom and night- 

With a celestial light 
Streaming afar ! 

Drop no vain tears on them — 
There is no stain on them ! 
Earth shall now tell 
How, glad with life to seal 
Freedom and Country-weal, 
Nobly they fell! 
Leaving a story 

Of valor and doom, 
Wreathing with glory 

Their brows for the tomb ! 



6o REQUIEM. 

Give them eternal rest, 

Father, with Thee, 
On Thy paternal breast, 

God of the Free ! 
Gather those ever Thine, 
In Thy fond arms divine. 
Who for their Country's laws, 
Thee, and old Freedom's cause, 

Battle and fall ! 
Give them supernal youth, 
Life in eternal truth — 

Flash wide o'er all 
Their far-splend'ring story, 

Dear, pure, and sublime, 
A sunshine of glory, 

To gladden all Time ! 
May 30, 1S72. 



THE GUEST OF GOD. 



IN MEMORIAM. 



Mrs. FREDERICK E. PLATT. 
Obiit, Owego, N. Y., Jan. 14, A. D. 1873. 



The Saviour called ! she heard his accent i 
tender, 
And waiting angels sing ; 
And putting on white robes of heavenly 
splendor, 
She went on willing wing. 

Willing to go— the gentle wife and mother 

Passed to the golden shore — 
Sadly, yet gladly, hence to mansions 
other — 
Ah, Earth will miss her sore ! 
5 



62 T PI E GUEST O F G O D. 

The Flowers will miss her, when the 
breezes vernal 
With kisses wake their bloom I 
But they with beauty and with balm 
eternal 
Shall gather 'round her tomb. 

Music will miss her ! for the love she 

bore her 

Was dear as Ruth's of old ; 

But Song shall linger in hushed hymnings 

o'er her, 

With her rich harp of gold. 

And Poesy will miss her ! with sad 
weeping, 

Chanting her requiem, 
Ever in fondest, holiest mem'ry keeping 

" The Star of Bethlehem ! " - " 

* The title of a beautiful Hvmn bv Mrs, Tlatt. 



THE GUEST OF GOD. 63 

Friendship will miss her ! sick ones and 
forsaken 
Will miss her kindly aid, 
Her cheering smile, the hand they oft 
have taken, 
Her heart in love arrayed. 

The Church on Earth will miss her fond 

endeavor, 

Her sweet, her saintly zeal, 

Her prayer, her praise which failed or 

faltered never 

Till death her lips did seal ! 

And Home will miss her ! on its hearth 
are ashes, 
And vacant is her chair ; 
But in that circle where heaven's fireside 
flashes 
She sits — immortal there I 



64 THE GUEST OF GOD. 

We miss her! but through tears of love 
terrestrial 
Over her hallowed sod, 
We thankful smile, that in the House 
celestial 
She is the Guest of God ! 



PSALM OF THANKSGIVING. 



Sit latis plena, sit sotiora, 
Sit jucunda, sit decora ^ 
Men tis jtibila tio . 

For all Thy bounteous blessings here 
Which diadem the rounding year ; 
For Spring's sweet sisterhood of showers 
That kiss and wake the slumbering flowers ; 
For Summer's joy, and generous yield 
On many a broad and brightsome field ; 
For Autumn's wealth of flock and fold, 
Of flagoned purple, garnered gold. 
We thank Thee, O our Father I 
5 



66 PSALM OF THANKSGIVING. 

For our loved land, bound round by bands 
Of interlinking hearts and hands ; 
For peace without, and peace within, 
And all the wide world kith and kin : 
For liberty vouchsafed to all. 
In fane and forum, hut and hall ; 
For favored sails and prospered marts — 
For these — for all — with grateful hearts. 
We thank Thee, O our Father! 

For Thy dear Bible — gift benign ! 
Sealed with thy Firstling's blood divine ; 
For all Thy mercies day by day 
Illuming our dim, devious way ; 
For all Thy loving-kindness sprent. 
As manna, 'round our earthly tent ; 
For our Redeemer's fond caress, 
Our birthright of immortalness. 

We thank Thee, O our Father! 



PSALM OF THANKSGIVING. 6/ 

For those who are not, and yet are — 
Who sleep anear, yet dwell afar ; 
For those who wake with tuneful feet 
The echoes of Thy golden street ; 
For those who still for us remain 
To soothe, to succor and sustain ; 
For those who o'er us wait and weep, 
And Love's celestial sentry keep, 
We thank Thee, O our Father ! 

And for another gladsome year 
To lead us toward Thy rest more near ; 
For blessings from Thy lavish palm 
Shed o'er a land devout and calm ; 
For homes and firesides warm and bright 
With Faith and Charity's delight ; 
May we who greet again this day 
Say, 'round Thine altar as we pray. 
We tJiank Thee, O our Father/ 



LINCOLN. 



Upon the bosom of Celestial-Joy 
At last reposes grand old Illinois ! 
Amid the best of every age and clime, 
Acclaimed the compeer of that host 
sublime — 

There, in the approving smile of God's 

dear face 
He rests, the Emancipator of a race ! 
His work is done ; and freedom on her hills 
With a great joy and mighty sorrow thrills. 

He stooped — so stooped the eagle in Ivis 
flight 



LINCOLN. 69 

Down through the rolling clouds and gloom 

of night, 
Who soared on noonday pinions to the sun, 
His work achieved, his heavenly quarry 

won ! 



He bowed — so bows the river to the sea. 
Which keeps right onward, calm, majestic, 

free. 
Diffusing hope and joy o'er hill and plain, 
Its mission wrought, then plunges in the 

main. 

He fell, so falls the brave old sheltering oak, 
'Gainst which the storms with baffled 

wrath have broke. 
When the keen axe gnaws rudely to the 

core, 
And all the forest echoes with its roar. 



70 LINCOLN. 

Yes, grand old man — he stooped! he 

bowed ! he fell ! 
And on the field of triumph he sleeps well. 

He sleeps — who Freedom's great revenge 

did fill 
For those to drink who sought her shame 

and ill, 
Hurling down treason to a bloody grave. 
And lifting up to liberty the Slave ! 

He sleeps ! but still a people live to wet 
His hallowed earth with tears of fond regret, 
To guard the freedom, once his sacred 

trust, 
And cherish his remembrance in the dust ; 
To teach their future tribes his truth and 

worth, 
And bear his virtues down to latest earth. 



LINCOLN. ;r I 



The master sleeps! Death has o'er him 
no power : 
He hves, he works, in each revolving 

hour, 
He lives while Truth shall feed her vestal 

fire, 
While Right shall strive, while Virtue shall 

inspire, 
While the opprest to God shall bend the 

knee, 
While men shall dare, and nations shall 

be free ; 
And Time shall write upon the scroll of 

fame 
No purer record than our Lincoln's name ! 
July, 1865. 



FATHER, MY GOD, I SEE. 
Llnes suggested by the Baptism of a Blind Boy. 



FatJicr — my God, I see ! 
Tho' deep unmoving clouds hang o'er 

my way, 
And the long night that brings no day ; 
Tho' heavy hands have quenched the 

noon, 
The smiling stars and mild-eyed moon — 
Through the thick shrouds that 'round 

me close. 
Through all the weary weight of earthly 

woes, 
Father — ;;// God, I see. 



FATHER, MY GOD, I SEE. 73 

Sealed tho' my vision be, 
And Nature, like a harper crowned and 

stoled. 
Lingering upon a harp of gold, 
Flatters the violets from their fold 
Of laughing lea or whispering wold. 
And sweet Spring from the Southern 

skies — 
Which I may only feel, for these vain 

eyes — 
Father— my God, I see. 

Sweet is the sound to me 
Of voices of my kin, so sooth and kind, 
I oft forget that I am blind. 
And seem, at times, in dreams to see ; 
And sweet 'tis with Thy fold to be- 
To mingle in their prayer and praise ; 



74 FATHER, MY GOD, I SEE. 

And though I may not on my loved ones 
gaze, 
Father — my God, I see. 

The waters cover me — 
Hallelujah ! Contented with thy Son in 

night, 
With Him I rise into Thy light; 
The clouds, the darkness fly afar, 
Jesus shines forth my morning-star ; 
By faith. His waiting feet of grace. 
His outstretched arms, His fond and 
loving face. 

Father — iny God, I see. 

Saviour, I look to Thee ! 
Illumine Thou the blindness of my heart. 
That I may see Thee as Thou art ; 

10 



FATHER, MY GOD, I SEE. / 5 

Pluck off its scales, that I may know 
The path of duty here below ; 
Shed on me inwardly Thy ray 
Of love divine, till in Thy courts I 
say, 
Father — my God, I see. 

Dearer than sight to me 
Are the loved ones of home who guide 

my feet 
And tune my lips with kisses sweet ; 
And dear to me are all who be 
Dear, O Infinite Love, to Thee ; 
Keep them, still keep. Lord, tenderly 

thine own, 
Till all redeemed and radiant 'round Thy 

Throne, 
Father — my God, I see. 



']^ FATHER, MY GOD, I SEE. 

Thanks, thanks, I give to Thee, 
Who, through this wilderness of wail and 

woe, 
Hast made the path where I should go 
In blindness, yet to me so bright 
With Thy dear Word's celestial light, 
What though thick clouds and darkness 

cover me? 
Thine arms enfold. Thy loving face bends 

over me ; 
Father — my God, I see. 



HYMN OF PRAISE. 



Praise forever, praise forever! 

To the righteous God of heaven, 
God Creator, God Preserver, 

Glory ever thine be given ! 

Suns and stars in radiance rolling, 

Clap their hands, according praise 

To the Lord our God controlling 
And sustaining all their ways. 

Shout ! he reigns forever glorious, 

Shout ! he reigns o'er all victorious, 
God of everlasting days. 

Praise forever, praise forever ! 

To who dwell beneath his sight, 



78 HYMNOFPRAISE. 

God, the Father of our being, 

God, the Lord of power and might! 

Comets o'er his vast dominions 
Cliariots are to him for speed ; 

Flashes borne on hghtning's pinions 
Glances from his eyeballs freed ; 

Dreadful thunders, space astounding, 

Echoes of his voice resounding ; 

Storm his mantle, wind his steed. 

Praise forever, praise forever ! 

Be unto the eternal King, 
All around him, all beneath him, 

Hallelujahs endless sing ! 

Fount of every pure emotion, 
Source of immortality. 



HYMN OFF RAISE. 79 

Here accept our hearts' devotion, 

Serving thee is hberty, 
Father, King, O great Jehovah, 
Great Creator, grand Prime-mover, 

Hallelujahs, praise to Thee ! 

Praise forever, praise forever! 

God of all things fair and free, 
Glory, honor, thine be given, 

God from all eternity ! 

Father, owning all our weakness, 
Bending low the feeble knee, 

In the robes of faith and meekness, 
Now we lift our hearts to thee. 

Bless, oh, bless our faint endeavor, 

Smile upon us, and forever 

Let thy smile our portion be.. 



HELEN'S GONE. 



Turn me wherever I will, 
There's a gentle voice that is still, 
A merry laugh that is hushed ! 
And I miss the flash of a joyous eye, 

And a cheek with the summer flushed. 
A form that came like a beam from the sky. 
On a wing of light, 
Hath taken its flight ; 
And the sunshine of a golden head, 
Down a dim and envious west hath fled, 
And my heart, my heart lies dead — 
For Helen's gone ! 

The Lily may bloom. 

And the sweet Tuberose 

Her petals unclose, 
And faint in her own perfume; 



HELEN'S GONE. 8l 

The Earth, in the rosy dyes 
Of the lustrous, eastern skies, 
Or robed in the sumptuous gloom 
Of the sunset's purple loom, 
May flash voluptuous, through the spheres 

afar. 
And each sister star, 
Linked in the golden round may glide 
Through the dim sapphire, wild and wide • 
But nothing to me is bright or rare 
In all the deep, broad, balmy air, 

And little I care 
Whether the world be weird, or fair. 
The Winter's widow, or Summer's bride — 
For Helen's gone ! 

The bluebird and robin may bring 
With their warble and carol, the Spring ; 
6 



82 helen'sgone. 

The swallow may sing 
With the summer on his wing ; 
The bob-o-link and oriole jangle together 
All the slow, sweet hours of the bright, 

blue weather ; 
And tl'fe breezes may breathe *and blow 
Through their wild wood organs, dim and free 
Smothered and vast and sweet and low, 
The morning stars old jubilee ; 
And music's golden tongue 
With its utterances divine, 
Uttered through voice or instrument, 
From soul to soul ecstatic caught and flung, 
Shall flatter my lone heart in vain ; 
All pleasant art in vain 
Shall plead with my lone pain — 
For Helen's gone ! 

So close the shutter. 
And shade the lamp, 



H E L E N ' S G O N E. 83 

My hopes sink chill and damp ; 
Earth's beauty and all her joy 
Gladden nor sadden, but annoy. 
Round your shining brows, merry girls. 
You may lightly lift your laughing curls ; 
And your songs all this bland and blessed eve 
Your spell of rapture and love may weave ; 
And the mornings may come and go, 
And the roses bloom and glow, 
And the night-winds sweetly blow, 
And the birds anear and afar 
Lift their hymns to the evening star ; 
But equal to me is rosy change 
Or bleak mischance of fortune strange ; 
Let the world roll on as it will — 
Sad or merry, well or ill : 
No joy, nor greater grief can come 
To my bosom's chill and desolate home — 
For Helen's jjone ! 



EPITAPH QF NINUS. 



Paraphrase on a P'ragment in Athen/eus. 



NiNUS, th' Assyrian, had a sea of gold, 
And treasures more than all the Caspian's 

sand ; 
In all his reign no star did he behold, 
Nor yearn for sitting with uiisceptred hand, 
The maudlin monarch of a mighty land ; 
None in his stead, among the Magi stoled, 
Trimmed the Holy Fire, as bade the 

canons old, 
Touching the shining God with 

consecrated wand. 



EPITAPH OF N I N U S. 85 

No sacrifice he offered, nay, nor prayer 

Uplifted to the ever-burning Seven; 
Nor justice wrought, nor spake brave 
words and fair 
Unto his folk — whom, as the stars of 

heaven, 
He numbered not, and hid from with 
heart craven ; 
But in the revel his was valor rare, 
And, couched obscene, none more than 
he might dare. 
Him, wassailing, Death smote: Upon 
his tomb is graven — 

** I that was Ninus, now am only clay • 
Naught now is mine save meat and 
drink and lust ; 
My riches, foes have rent and borne away — 



86 EPITAPH OF N I N U S. 

As Bacchae, warring o'er their spoils 

unjust, 
Bear off raw kids, rent in their greed's 
distrust. 
I am housed in hell ! naught is left me to-day 
Of houses, gold or silver chariots — nay, 
I, that did wear a crown, am but a 
heap of dust ! " 



To 



Oh, she was fair as the first opening rose 
That sets the diadem upon the brow 
Of Spring, and angels led her gentle feet 
In morning walks of purity, the hem 
Of her white garments softened with the dew 
Of innocence. The light of her dear eyes 
Was sweet as star-beams in the summer 

skies, 
And shed an influence of heaven where'er 
She moved in loveliness of form and feature. 
Her heart was like the poet's cherished page, 
Whereon was writ a wealth of love and song, 



88 TO . 

Filled with rich gushes of impassioned 

beauty, 
When his rapt soul was in spring-tide 

of youth. 
Her mind — a bower filled with singing birds, 
Fraught with delirious music of pure joy, 
Melodious in the sunshine of delight. 
Melodious in the starlight of content, 
Nor silent in the dark night of distress ; 
And from her mind to us, her thoughts 

came forth 
Like little children bearing stores of flowers ! 
Oh, she was dear to me — the dearest next 
To God ! She made my life as joyous as 
A twilight of deep heaven upon a shore 
Washed with an ocean of sweet song. 

She filled 
My soul with the religion of deep love. 



TO . 89 

That with its light gave token of a full 
And perfect day of bliss beyond the skies! 

But in one autumn dawning, when the moon 
Bent o'er the golden brow of a western hill, 
Mourning, and pale, and childless of her 

stars — 
An angel entered at her door and clad 
Her in celestial white, and led her through 
The gateway of the morning to a day 
Eternal in the bloom of paradise. 

A flood of sorrow whelmed my sinking 
heart ; 
But I wept not — for when the tears would 

start. 
An unseen hand did wipe them from my eyes, 
And unseen spirits whispered, *' All is well ! " 
We know she is an angel now, and folds 
Her wings upon the bosom of our God. 



90 TO . 

Her memory is worn in gentle hearts 
On earth, as holy as the relics of 
A saint ; and though the starlight of her eyes 
Is palled in darkness of the grave, the calm, 
Sweet moonlight of her virtues yet beams 

forth. 
Streaming a sacred beauty o'er the wastes 
And deserts of our hearts. There is a mound 
In yonder church-yard, blue with violets : 
'Tis good to sit thereby at eventide 
Alone! Alone with her, the stars, and 

God! 



A FRAGMENT. 



She saw — and from her eyelids leapt 
Such tears as angels may have wept 
Bending in beauty from the skies 
Over the triple sacrifice ; 
In truth, among her worshippers, 
The best of heaven and earth were hers. 
Whatever beauty earth could spare 
Shone in the glories of her hair, 
Spake in the splendors of her eye. 
Breathed in her form, with kindlings high. 
And all that heaven could impart 
Was garnered in her guileless heart : 
Goodness and virtue, truth and trust 
Locked in one casket of the dust. 



THE OLD AND THE NEW. 

Delivered on the occasion of Laying the Corner- 
stone OF the New Court House, Owego, 
August i, iSyi. 



It is done ! — and the Ashler the Crafts- 
man prepared, 

Duly shaped, duly plumbed, duly levelled 
and squared, 

Is laid ! — and the corn and the oil and the wine 

Are poured ! and the grace of the Master 
Divine 

Is invoked on the work ! All is done, and 
well done ; 

And a brave goodly toil is in gladness begun, 



THE OLD AND THE NEW. 93 

Which may the Supreme, Heavenly Archi- 
tect guide 

To a glorious conclusion of beauty and pride 

To a splendor consummate, where justice 
shall guard 

Her sword and her balance with strict 
watch and ward, 

In her Temple — a joy and a stronghold 
forever, 

Where Right over Wrong, in its ceaseless 
endeavor, 

New victories shall win — as ever of yore 

It has battled and triumphed, and shall 
evermore ! 



It is done, and the Old must give place 

to the New, 
The old Forum, so old, yet so honest and true, 



94 THE OLD AND THE NEW. 

With its fond, pleasant memories, bright 

as the day, 
Must give place to the new — yes, must 

soon pass away. 
But those old recollections shall flourish 

in hearts 
Green for aye with all beauty, that rev- 
erence imparts ; 
For how shall we learn to forget those 

who made 
Its old walls resound as they wielded the 

blade 
Of eloquence, logic, or wit, in the cause 
Of justice and right, and our State's 

sacred laws. 

There stood Dana, when tJiat, our old 

forum was new, 
Thecounsellor calm, and the gentleman true. 



THE OLD AND T H KNEW. 95 

Who passed from brave life, full of hon- 
orable years, 
Beloved of all men, and deplored by 

their tears ! 
And beside him stood Platt, with his 

cautious reserve. 
But with heart fond and warm, and who 

knew not to swerve 
From rectitude's path^nor to fawn, noi 

to bend — 
The Lawyer, the Christian, the neighbor, 

the friend ! 
There AvERY, the elder, too, towered erect 
In the brilliance and splendor of proud 

intellect, 
With a word of kind welcome for high 

and for low. 
And whose friends rose by thousands, 

where one cowered a foe ! 



96 THE OLD AND THE NEW. 

And how often those walls have reechoed 
the zeal, 

The bold declamation, the ring of the steel 

Of th' old Champion,, Strong, as he rose 
for the fray, 

And drawing his sword, threw his scab- 
bard away, — 

From the spur to the plume a just, val- 
orous knight. 

Whose joy was the battle, the law his delight ! 

There, also, still lingers of Sweet's silver 

tongue 
The musical echoes — a man ever young 
In the quick, tender heart, in oppression's 

deep scorn ; 
And who touched on no topic he failed 

to adorn ! 



THE OLD AND THE NEW. 97 

And there, too, was LOVEJOY, who clad 

on with truth, 
Passed away in fair promise, and glorious 

youth I 

But these are all gone — -yes, they sleep on 

the shore 
Where the rude waves of earth and of 

time break no more ; 
They have passed from our vision, and 

left us to strew 
On their memories' shrine flowers of all 

tender hue. 
Of love, emulation, and reverence due — 
Yes, th' Old passes away, and gives place 

to the New! 

And forth from the doors of that time- 
honored place 
How many, set out in Ambition's stern race, 



98 THE OLD AND THE NEW. 

Have touched the proud goal of repute 

and success ! 
Genial Avery, the Judge, who achieved 

goodly fame, 
And in youth wore the ermine without 

stain or blame — 
Walker — now in life's noontide hour 

filling the chair, 
Whence Jefferson swayed Old Dominion's 

realm fair — 
Tracy — standing up shoulder to shoulder 

with all 
Who are brilliant in Courts and sagacious 

in hall — 
Young Madill — in the light of his fair 

morning star 
On the Bench, and the joy and the pride 

of the Bar— 



THE OLD AND THE NEW. 99 

Catlin — Babcock— brave soldiers, who 

gave limb and life 
In the cause of the Union in War's 

deadly strife ! 
Yes ! all these come before us in bright, 

glad review — 
But the Old passes away, and gives place 

to the New. 

Then give place to the New ! Fairer 
structures must rise, 

And lift up their beauty and strength in 
the skies. 

Onward speedeth the world in Progres- 
sion's swift car, 

And who heeds not its flight, Time, the 
spoiler, will mar. 



I(X) THE OLD AND THE NEW. 

The old Court-house, with all its fond mem- 
ories of yore, 

With its low, dingy wall, narrow bar, 
creaking floor, 

Its doves in the belfry, its rats in the vault. 

Must sink 'neath the surgings of ruin's 
assault ! 

Let the new Temple rise ; and within the 

proud fane 
May those elders we reverence, revered still 

remain, ■ 
Yea, long, long remain, full of honor and 

years. 
To cheer with their counsels our hopes 

and our fears ! 
Here still may the dignified Farrington's 

voice 
In words of considerate wisdom rejoice. 



THE OLD AND THE NEW. lOI 

May Hunger, with white hairs and old 

age serene, 
In honesty's mantle, and vigor be seen. 
May Davis the faithful, the earnest, the 

true. 
His years and his strength like the eagle 

renew. 
May Nichols in straightforward manliness 

stand. 
With his generous heart, and his strong, 

helping hand. 
May Taylor, with clear and with scholarly 

mind. 
As apure chiselled column of marble refined, 
Still lend to the forum his chaste, firm 

support. 
And honor confer on cause, counsel, and 

Court. 



I02 THE OLD AND THE NEW. 

And Camp, like a star, shed the cahn, steady 
h"ght 

Of an intellect — one, perfect, pure chry- 
solite — 

With a beam that shall know neither dim- 
ness nor wane 

Till he sets o'er the heights next eternity's 
plain ! 

But the hours of their loftiest endeavors 
are flown, 

Their laurels are gathered, their crowns are 
their own ; 

The almond-tree's blossom is wreathed 
with their bays. 

And their juniors must war where they 
won in their days. 

And so when our Temple's proud cap-stone 
is laid. 



THE OLD AND THE NEW. 103 

And its beautiful walls are in splendor 

displayed, 
• Here may we our Hancock, the genial 

soul, meet 
With his force of a Strong, and the music 

of Szveet, 
With his eloquent tongue, and his kindly, 

glad smile, 
To flatter, convince, to confute and beguile ; 
To gather fresh laurels, and wreath round 

his name 
The applause of the good, and the chaplet 

of fame ! 
And Parker, young Parker, here too 

may he stand 
In the pride of his lore, and his logic's 

command. 
Bidding Courts to the power of his keen 

genius bend, 



I04 THE OLD AND THE NEW. 

And crown with success a bright, honor- 
able end. 

Here, too, in high argument, oft may we 
hear 

The valorous RouSE and the chivalric Gere ; 

And list, as in logical conflict they join. 

Prudent NixON dissect, cautious Warner 
refine ; 

Behold as in contest they rise to their mettle 

The versatile Allan, the keen, eager 
Settle': 

The pure, generous Clark, the high- 
minded Scott, 

PUMPELLY and Easton, be they not for- 
got— 

Nor LOCKWOOD, nor Eaton, nor Dexter, 
nor Floyd, 

Nor TozER, nor tJiat one whose name / 
avoid. 



THE OLD AND THE NEW. 105 

May the ermine which rests on their shoul- 
ders who stand 

At the altar of Justice with ministering hand, 

Still rest where it rests, as unspotted and 
pure. 

While the high, holy office of Judge shall 
endure ! 

And here still may Parker's calm judg- 
ment refine — 

May Balcom's quick reason and rare 
genius shine — 

May BOARDMAN with dignified bearing 
preside, 

And Murray with all, the high honors 
divide. 

And long may this Temple in majesty 

stand, 
A rock and a fortress of rigl\t o'er the land 



Io6 THE OLD AND THE NEW. 

May it grow up in beauty — column, wall- 
vail, and tower, 

The asylum of Justice, the emblem of 
power ; 

And our People, who rear it, hold their 
love and their awe 

Of their free constitution, tribunals and law ! 

And, when ive who have gathered on this 
festal day 

The chief corner-stone of our temple to lay, 

Shall have heard the last call of the 
Master of Love 

From labor, to rest and refreshment above. 

With our lambskins as pure as the snows 
white and driven. 

May we meet in His Temple, eternal in 
Heaven ! 



OLD JOHN'S A-WEARY. 



Honest John's a-weary, 

His winter's bleak winds blow, 
But dreads he not the dreary 

Drifting of life's snow; 
Calmly he is waiting, 

Now his work is o'er, 
God's footstep and greeting 

At his lowly door. 

Silver locks are streaming 
Across his placid brow, 

A feeble twilight's beaming 
In his dim eye now; 

There's a prayer expiring 
On his lips so cold, 



IC8 OLD JOHN'S A - W E A R Y 

God's dear word desiring 
On his home-sweet fold. 

Honest John's a-weary, 

He's passing to his rest, 
But weep not, dear old Mary, 

On his fond old breast ; 
Death cannot dissever 

Loving hearts and true, 
One by one, the river 

Jordan ye go through. 

Sally, cease thy sighing 

And close thy father's eyes, 
His spirit now is flying 

Dove-like through the skies ; 
Homeward he is going 

Up the silent way, 
Where life's stream is flowing 

In unending day. 



OLD JOHN' S A- WEA R Y. 109 

Tom, his heart's stopped beating! 

Now fold his arms in rest, 
As was his wont in meeting. 

Calmly on his breast ; 
He has gone to glory, 

He has sped from earth ; 
Sacred keep his story, 

Emulate his worth ! 

He's no longer weary. 

He slumbers sweetly now ; 
The sun falls warm and cheery 

On his placid brow : 
Tranquilly he lieth, 

All his work is done, 
Death abashed, denieth 

The poor victory won. 



THE OLD COUNTRY WIFE. 



Wrapt in the golden woof 
Of her contented life, 

Under the olden roof 

Sits the old Country Wife, 
Turning the pages of memory o'er, 
Bright with affection and love-songs of yore 

Thus from the morning-balm 

Till evening's purple calm. 
Conning old memories o'er and o'er, 

She cheerily sitteth. 

And merrily knitteth. 
In the calm light of the farm-house door ! 



THE OLD COUNTRY WIFE. Ill 

She.sings a defiance, 

With glad songs of yore, 
To the sorrows of science, 

The sad things of lore ; 
Her hopes, her reliance, 

Are not in their store, 
In the search of neologies 

She is not bent — 
Her wisdom, her knowledge, is 

Simple Content ! 
With her station content, 

When content she hath trod— 
With her Bible content, 

And content with her God ! 
And conning old memories o'er and o'er, 
Contentedly sitting, 
And merrily knitting, 
She basks in the light of the farm-house 
door ! 



112 THE OLD COUNTRY WIFE 

Ah ! little she knows 
Of the world and its woes ; 
Of its follies of fashion, 
Or the bleak storms of passion. 
The phantom of Gain, 
As he stalked through the land, 
With his pomp and his pain, 
She sought not to clasp ; 
So she felt not the grasp 
Of rude Ruin's skeleton hand. 
But the quiet within, 
Undisturbed by the din 
Of madness and sin, 
Makes glad the dim light of the farm-house 
door ; 
Where she cheerily sitteth, 
And merrily knitteth. 
Conning old memories o'er and o'er ! 



THE OLD COUNTRY WIFE. II3 

Thus calmly her life, 

Free from sorrow and strife, 
Hath spun out its quiet thread ; 

And thus hath she knit, 

In her simple wit, 
Fond loves of the living and dead. 

And though old age hath silvered 

Her head, and bewildered 
Her thoughts of the dim days of yore ; 
Yet, conning old memories o'er and o'er, 

She cheerily sitteth. 

And merrily knitteth, 
In the calm light of the farm-house door ! 

Her loved ones of youth. 

With their fondness and truth, 

Have passed through that farm-house door 

On death's drooping plume ; 

But their mem'ries perfume 
8 



114 THE OLD COUNTRY WIFE. 

The tranquil content of the farm-house door; 

And their musical feet 

On the golden street, 
By faith, she can hear from the farm-house 
door ! 

And soon through that portal, 

In raiment immortal, 
Shall go the good wife of the farm-house 
door. 

In pride — not in meekness, 

In strength — not in weakness. 

To join in God's love 

With her dear ones above ; 
And we shall behold never more, as of yore, 

The old Country Wife sitting, 

And merrily knitting. 
In the calm light of the farm-house door! 



JENNIE. 



Jennie, with the hght-brown tresses, 

Dewy Hps and eye of blue. 
Round whose form with fond caresses, 

CHng the Beautiful and True ! 
Dear is morn, and purple twilight, 

Dear the stars' far-flashing glee ; 
But far dearer, thy sweet eyelight, 

Fair-haired Jennie, is to me ! 

Jennie, when the brook is flowing 
Tuneful, through the vernal lea — 

Jennie, when the breeze is blowing 
O'er the spice-isled summer-sea — 

When the mellow fruit is glowing, 
Golden in the autumn tree, 



Il6 JENNIE. 

Ever still my heart is owing 

Love's sweet loyalty unto thee ! 

Jennie ! ah, if thou'lt but love me, 

Cheer me with thy gentle charms, 
I'll not reck what sky's above me, 

So I have thee in these. arms! 
For the day will spring in beauty, 

And th<e eve in music close. 
Love and Hope and Truth and Duty 

Keep fond watch o'er our repose. 

Bright will gleam the moments sombre, 

As adown the midnight dim 
Dance the dream-eyed choirs of slumber, 

To the hush of a voiceless hymn. 
Fondly we will live, forgiving 

Each the other's erring way, 
Fondly love as long as living, 

Fondly loving pass away ! 



LOVE. 



They grow not old who live in love, 

For love can never die ; 
They bring down heaven from above, 

And sweetly join the earth and sky. 

Love is the only legacy 

The days of old have left, 
Which still a heritage shall be 

To man when of all else bereft. 

Love first the roseate Eden trod ; 

They little sin, who love ; 
Love is the strong right arm of God : 

'Twas from, and must return, above. 



THE BABY. 



" Honneiir atix enfaiits." 

Beranger. 

Who is it that with Love's sweet might, 
And aspect of an angel bright, 
Effuses o'er me such delight ? 

The Baby! 
Who is it with such guileless air 
Entwines his fingers in my hair, 
And pulls so stoutly — I declare? 

The Baby ! 

Who is it in whose deep, dark eye 
A radiance borrowed from on high 
Doth so serene, celestial lie ? 

The Babv ! 



THE BABY. II9 

Who is it from whose smiling screen, 
The teeth, hke angels' visits seen. 
Glance pearly, few and far between ? 
The Baby ! 

Who never, never, never cries, 
But on whose lip the laughter lies 
Like truant sunbeams from the skies? 
The Baby ! 

Who is it in some unknown tongue 
So sweetly jargons all day long, 
Like echoes from the wind-harp flung? 
The Baby ! 

Oh, may thy days be loved and long, 
Thy heart heroic, true, and strong, 
Thy joy, the Right, thy scorn, the Wrong? 
The Baby ! 



BLUEBIRD. 



Bright bird ! dost come to our cold clime 

once more ! 
Find'st thou no pleasure in the realms of sun, 
That thus thou dost revisit us, or ere 
The wintry bands are loosed by joyous 

Spring? 
What inborn love of us could thus have won 
Thee from the azure of the Southern skies 
Back to the gloomy cloisters of the North, 
Which, like a nun, thou seekest, here to 

drown 



BLUEBIRD. I2T 

In melancholy song some pressing grief 
Which thou dost cherish, yet would all 
forget? 

Thou comest in thy ;: entleness, like flowers 
After fresh dancing showers, shaking from 
Thy wings soft music and sweet balm ; and 

come 
Bright hours, which lead with golden 

threads of light 
The young and wayward Spring. Thy 

plaintive note 
The south-wind woos, and on my cheek I 

feel 
Its dreamy influence breathing like the full 
Warm breath of glorious girls divine ! 

Thou comest — and the Winter flies the 
year ! 



122 BLUEBIRD. 

Thou warblest — and the Spring trips o'cr 

the hills ! 
Thou comest — and the heavens smile again ! 
Thou warblest — and all Nature's heart 

beats high ! 
Hail! hail! to thee, bird of the plaintive 

note, 
And plume dipt in the firmament's own blue ! 

Weill remember, when I was a boy, 
Two bluebirds came,, and by my window 

built 
Their nest. I used to sit for hours and watch 
Them in their work of love, till I became 
Familiar with them, and they fed from out 
My hands. From thence we three were 

gentle friends. 
Soon came the Summer, and with it their 

brood 



BLUEBIRD. 123 

Of querulous fledglings. How I loved 

those birds ! 
And I had thought — a simple child — they 

would 
Forever stay and flutter round my head 
With their soft warble and their gentle ways. 
Alas, for childhood and its happy hours ! 

— one day 
Ev'n on uncertain wingthey took theirflight. 
My love was turned to tears. But when 

the Spring 
Again returned, those same two birds 

came back. 
I knew them by the household, sweet dis- 
course they held 
When they looked on the dear old lasU 

year's nest. 
Dear unto me were they again — and are ! 



124 BLUEBIRD. 

But now that years have shut out from 

my heart 
Those little rays of love which then 

streamed through 
And gave it all a glow, I quite forget 
Those birds of low, soft melody, until 
Some early messengers of Spring awake 
The mem'ries of my blessed infancy! 
And then I deem they are those self-same 

birds, 
Whom in the morning of my life I loved, 
Come back again to seek that same old nest. 
Yes, more — I think that though the world 

may frown 
Misfortune on me, though my friends desert, 
Though the bright fires of my hopes go out 
In disappointment gloomy as the grave, 
Those self-same bluebirds will revisit me. 



BLUEBIRD. 125 

To bring the lost heart of my boyhood back, 
And I shall see a glorious future fair again 
Unfold, nor yield to dismal, 'dread despair! 

Bright bird ! would I could give language to 
Thy song. Oh, that thy melody were mine, 
I would not ask for tl.ose exulting strains 
Which wake the world, and bid it hear ! 

— nor would 
I strive for vain applause, or passing show ; 
But with a low, soft song go forth to win 
Mankind unto thy ways of gentleness ! 



SUNSET. 

A FRAGMENT. 

. « 

Fitting place and fitting moment here to 

quaff the spirit's calm, 
In the sunset's sad serenity and twilight's 

breathless balm. 

Dull and distant, through the forest, sounds 
the pheasants' muffled drum, 

Drearily the crows are calling their far- 
scattered households home. 

And the pensive, passionate brown-thrush 
on the pine-tree, sits and sings, 

And a random swallow, soaring, clasps the 
sundown in his wings. 



SUNSET. 127 

While with tinkling feet the waters patter 

onward to their tryst, 
In the meadows where the blossoms wait 

impatient to be kist. 

Hark! the birds are mute with drowsihed, 
the weary breeze is still, 

And the night-dews lay their muffling palms 
upon the running rill. 

And the clover in the meadow, scents the 
mayflower in the gloom, 

And the honey-suckle, drooping, breathes 
her soul out in perfume. 

While the pale and passionate mandrake 
slumbers, dreaming of the dawn. 

And the saintly choirs of heaven put their 
shining garments on. 



AT REST. 

♦ 

How rapt is their repose who sink to sleep 

Full armed on Freedom's breast! 
O'er them the stars a benediction weep ; 
Fondly the flowers a vestal vigil keep, 

And sentinel their rest ; 
And ever is their cadent requiem heard 
In the low lull of brook, and breeze, and bird 

When sunset soothes the West ! 
Theirs is sweet sleep, deep slumber, grand 
repose — 

The golden, godlike calm, 
O'er which no waft of pain or passion blows, 

Or hush of heavenly psalm. 
Over them Love her votive blossoms strews 

With fair, profusest palm ; 



AT REST. 129 

While from unfailing chalices the wine 
Of tears is poured upon their memory's 
shrine ; 
And Freedom's holy balm 
From myriad censers of chivalric hearts, 
Forever still ascending, still imparts 

A freshness to their fames : 
And future millions from regenerate lands 
Kneeling around their tombs in pilgrim 
bands, 
Shall name their sainted names ! 
Forget them not, my Country, when the airs 
Of heaven are freighted with thy Free- 
men's prayers ; 
For never yet was faith, — was never zeal 
like theirs ! 
9 



THE THREE POETS. 



Three poets sat down in the purple west, 
Round the hearth of her of the gentle soul ; 
And they sang the songs which their hearts 
loved best, 
As they steeped their cares in the 
Turkish bowl. 
And she was fair as the songs she sung, 
And he was bearded and bold and young, 
And the other was bowed and hoary. 

She carolled with accents dulcet and low. 
Of the forests' glee, and the fields' delight, 

Of the lily's bloom, and the rose's glow. 
Of the vernal dawn and the summer night ; 

Of all things lovely and bright and fair 

The heart may divine or the senses share 
From the beautiful fount of glory. 



THE THREE POETS. I31 

And he that was bearded, and bold, and 
young 
Of the palms in the path of glory strewn, 
Of the brave, the free, and the mighty, 
sung — 
With a voice as from lips of the trumpet 
blown ; 
Of all ambition and love may dream, 
Or hope may weave from the distant gleam 
Through the gods' dim ivory portal. 

Then he on whose brow lay the shining frost, 
Like the fiery storm of an organ's heart 

Whelming all in melodious Pentecost, 
Sang — the fair must fade and the good 
depart. 

But flourishing in eternal youth. 

Still blooms and blesses celestial truth 
In the sunshine of love immortal. 



132 THE THREE POETS. 

So grandly he sang that the hstening twain 
Caught the rapturous thrill of his 
heavenly psalm, 
And they joined in the lofty song amain, 
Till the air swam and swooned with gold 
and balm. 
And so, all the lingering night did they woo 
The Good, the Beautiful, and the True, 
Till the star in the dawn drooped faintly. 

Nor hushed was that paean's palpitant close, 
When there came, as gently as falls the dew. 

From the daylight's folded wings on the rose, 
The soul of the Beautiful, Good, and True, 

And poured in their midst all light, all grace. 

And. breathing a paradise o'er the place. 
Touched their hearts with her blessing 
saintly. 



ZISCA'S DRUM. 

AN ECHO OF BOHEMIA. 



John Zisca, sustained by his fierce Hussite warriors, 
armed with iron flails, carried on the war against the 
Emperor Sigismund with signal ability and success ; and the 
total loss of his eyesight proved no obstacle to victories. 
Dying, he ordered his soldiers to abandon his body to the 
birds of prey, and to convert his skin into a drum. Ac- 
cording to tradition, this latter injunction was obeyed ; 
and by the mere sound of that ghostly instrument, great 
victories were won. 



Lo ! where the storm of Hell's leagued 

powers 
In groaning clouds of battle lowers ; 
Lo! where the pennons of Crosierand Crown 
Over our valleys flaunt and frown ! 

Stand as a rock, 

O little flock ! 



134 ZISCA'S DRUM. 

God, and the soul of holy Huss, 
Still shall uphold and strengthen us ! 
Princes and prelates ! what are they ? 

Winnowed by Truth's strong eagle- 
pinion, 

Soaring aloft in Christ's dominion, 
They shall be swept as chaff away. 
Stand as a rock, 
O little flock! 
With fiery zeal and iron will, 
The blind old Zisca leads us still. 
Those earthly orbs Jehovah sealed 

To fill with clearer light from heaven^ 
Still, still survey the battle-field, 

Where godless hosts, in panic driven. 
Shall shock in ruin wild and red ! 
Vain is their hope. He is not dead — 
He leads who victory ever led ! 



ZISCA' S DRUM. 135 

They come ! they come ! 
Bring forth the drum ! 
Zoom ! Rat-a-tat ! 
Zoom-zoom ! Rat-a-tat ! 
Zoom ! Zoom ! Zoom ! 

Stand ! by the Flesh of Him we eat — 
Whose Blood we drink— our Rock and 
Trust — 
Stand ! by the Christ, whose bleeding feet 

Triumphant trod Death in the dust ! 
Taborite ! Calixtine ! lo, where come 
Antichrist and his hordes of greed, 
To spoil our land, strike Conscience dumb, 
And bid afresh our Saviour bleed ! 
Stand as a rock, 
O little flock ! 
Stern Tabor's chieftain leads the van — 
His blind orbs every hero scan— 



136 zisca's drum. 

Then let the hail 
Of the iron flail 
Fall on the butchers of holy Huss! 
God and old Zisca war with us ! 
The foe — they come ; 
Sound, sound the drum ! 
Zoom ! Rat-a-tat ! 
Zoom-zoom ! Rat-a-tat ! 
Zoojn ! Zoom ! Zoom ! 

Zoom ! Lo, the royal cheeks that blushed 
'Neath martyr's glance in Council hushed, 
Blanch at the blind old chieftain's call, 
As back from stake and fiery round, 
The shafts of perfidy rebound 
To smite that accursed whited wall. 
Zoojn-zoom ! Lo, the vultures and wolves 

abhorred. 
That {^ti\ on the chosen of the Lord — 



ZISCA' S DRUM. 137 

They turn to fly ; and Crosier and Crown 
In dust and gore are trampled down ! 
Zoom! Zoom! Zoom! They strike no 

blow — 
They fly — they melt like the sun-smit snow ! 
See ! the lightnings of blind old Zisca's eye 
Are scorching with wrath their shattered 
ranks — 
The thunders of his avenging cry 
Hurl panic upon their flying flanks. 
On, on to the shock, 
O little flock! 
Let the blood-stained hail 
Of the iron flail 
Drive forth in shame from our fatherland 
Tyrant and Antichrist, hand in hand. 
Hark, hark the cry — 
They fly ! they die ! 



138 zisca's drum. 

Beat, beat with glory now the drum, 
The drum, the blind old Zisca's drum ! 
Zoom / Rat-a-tat / 
Zoom-zoom ! Rat-a-tat / 
Zoom ! Zoom ! Zoom / 



AFTER THE WAR. 



The war, it is past, with its woe, and its crime, 
With its stories heroic, its lessons sublime ; 
And Peace folds her wings over lake, sea, 

and shore- 
There, there may she brood, like a dove, 

evermore ! 
And the flag of our old Ship of State floats 

unfurled, 
A meteor of hope to the opprest of the 

world. 
And the nations are bidding — " God speed," 

and ''AH hail!" 
As the ark of humanity trims her broad sail. 



I40 AFTER THE WAR. 

And her tall masts are nodding in liberty's 

gale. 
Sail on, O thou Union ! thy dangers are past ; 
The false lights on shore are blown out 

with the blast — 
The breakers are 'scaped ; and no more 

shalt thou feel 
The black rocks of Slavery grate on thy keel. 
The deep sea's beneath thee, the broad sea 

before thee, 
The storms are dispersed, and a blue sky 

bends o'er thee ; 
Unfurl every sail, every flag, to the blast — 
The tempest of treason is rode out at last I 
Sail on with thy freight of our hopes, not 

our fears. 
Of our faith, not our doubt, of our joy, not 

our tears! 



AFTER THE WAR. 141 

Thou'st wrestled with wind, and with wave, 

and with rock ; 
Hast laughed at disaster, and smiled at 

the shock ; 
Every rib has been tried, and with rapture 

we feel 
New life, and new energies, thrill through 

thy keel. 
Every rope, every plank, is humanity's 

now — 
Thou'rt Freedom's, old Freedom's, from 

helm to the prow ! 
Sail on in thy grandeur, majestic and free, 
Till liberty hallow the land and the sea — 
Till the East and the West in communion 

clasp hands, 
O'er a concord of all the wide continent's 

lands — 



142 AFTER THE WAR. 

Till Tyranny headlong to infamy hurled, 
The Union shall compass the walls of the 

world. 
Sail on ! and forever be Justice thy light ! 
Sail on ! and unmoved at thy helm stand 

the Right ! 
Sail on, yes, sail on, under Truth's ensign 

broad ! 
Thine armament Freedom — thine anchor 

be God ! 



TO . 

♦ 

One serious word, or ere the shore 

Of parting fades, my friend ! 
For her in whose sweet self such store 

Of gentle aspects blend : 
Who know her, love — even as they love 

The pure, the kind, the true — 
A being bathed in angel-light, 

And yet a woman too ! 

Gird all thy manhood round her heart, 

Be hers thy trust, thy hope ! 
Make her the anchor of thy soul. 

Then with the great world cope. 
For know, that man who woman loves. 

Is thrice the man, he was — 
And battles in a nobler host. 

And in a holier cause. 



144 -r^ 



Take her, and be her lamp of love 

The light unto thy way, 
To keep thee in the truth— nor quite 

Disown her gentle sway ; 
That she who, as a woman came 

In morning's golden light, 
May prove thy better angel 'mid 

The gloom and storm of night. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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